Chapter 818 – Jianzhou Prefecture, Securing the Capital (Seven)
According to the little words of romance suggested by the audience, this would be the perfect moment for a melodramatic kiss.
Of course, she shouldn’t have trusted those single people in the livestream—if they had any flirty tactics, would they still be single?
Jiang Pengji silently criticized them, completely unaware that Wei Ci was also startled by her.
First, plagued by nightmares, and then startled awake only to crash into someone else’s face with his nose!
It couldn’t be more embarrassing.
Wei Ci didn’t mind the pain and hurriedly prepared to bow in apology, but having knelt all night with Jiang Pengji using his lap as a pillow, his legs had grown numb to the point of losing sensation. He slumped awkwardly on the ground, tears welling up in his eyes, looking utterly pitiful.
Jiang Pengji raised her hand to rub her cheek, choosing not to tease him about this embarrassing incident—she didn’t want to truly anger him.
“Were you having a nightmare just now?” Jiang Pengji returned to normal, as if the earlier mishap never happened. “Look at you, drenched in cold sweat.”
The prolonged nightmare made Wei Ci a bit slow to react; he didn’t even have the energy to pursue what had just occurred.
“I had a nightmare…” Wei Ci said with lingering fear, “I saw many malicious ghosts… they almost tore me apart…”
He gasped for breath, his onyx-like eyes flashing with apprehension, as if the remnants of the nightmare had yet to dissipate.
Jiang Pengji tilted her head, curiosity dancing across her features. “The evil spirits in your nightmare? I heard you mumbling about ‘Crown Prince Zhang Zuo,’ ‘Unfilial Son,’ ‘Princess Changsheng,’ and the like… What exactly did you dream about that scared you so much?”
If Wei Ci had any color left in his face earlier, it drained away entirely when Jiang Pengji asked this, turning him as pale as paper.
Wei Ci opened his mouth, something choking his throat, rendering him unable to utter a single word, as a surge of the impulse to escape welled up within him.
“Zixiao?”
Jiang Pengji raised her hand to touch his forehead, the dampness of his brow feeling cold and sticky, unpleasant to the touch.
To her, it felt icy, but for Wei Ci, it was like a searing heat—a little flame quietly radiating warmth, driving away the cold.
“My Lord…” Wei Ci hesitated, avoiding her concerned gaze and awkwardly averting his eyes, “I’m fine.”
Jiang Pengji frowned slightly; this certainly didn’t look like someone who was fine.
Who was the “Crown Prince Zhang Zuo” he dreamed of?
The “Princess Changsheng” definitely wasn’t the chubby little one sleeping soundly beside him; that person held significant importance to Wei Ci.
As for the murmurs about “Unfilial Son,” “Fushou kneeling,” “Unfilial Son impersonating the heir,” and “death penalty,” she felt there was a lot to unpack.
Jiang Pengji pressed on, “You still haven’t answered me. What did you dream about just now?”
Wei Ci’s heart sank; the warmth he had gathered dissipated in an instant as he stammered, “I… I can’t remember… I only remember that the dream was terrifying… countless vengeful ghosts were chasing me for my life, and I woke up just as I was about to fall…”
Jiang Pengji recalled the audience’s suggestions and soothed him, “Dreams and reality are opposites; don’t take them to heart. It’s bright outside now, and I see you haven’t slept soundly all night. How about you go back to sleep for a while? The matters of the administration can wait half a day.”
Wei Ci felt slightly relieved and exhaled deeply.
With Jiang Pengji comforting him, it meant that he could brush aside what had just happened.
“Thank you for your understanding, My Lord.”
Jiang Pengji donned a large hood and slipped out through the side door; with her skills, she naturally wouldn’t leave a trace.
Wei Ci rubbed his heavy head, preparing to catch up on some sleep.
It had been five years since his youth; he thought he had long forgotten the past, yet he had been caught red-handed by his lord last night.
That had really scared his soul out of him.
He knew that the emperor wasn’t a suspicious person, but dealing with her was even more difficult than with someone overly suspicious. Any tiny clue could serve as her key to uncovering the truth—ordinary people simply couldn’t hide anything from her keen eyes. Since the establishment of Jiang Guo, the aristocratic families banded together, appearing powerful, yet they were always manipulated like puppets in her hands. Those familial legacies were nothing but prey in her web; the more they struggled, the weaker they became.
In the face of such an emperor, one must always stay on guard to avoid being seen through.
He had every reason to be fearful.
Even if the emperor was only eighteen years old, she was still not to be trifled with.
From the emperor’s rise to the eighteen years of Jiang Zhao’s Yongchen reign, the power of the aristocracy was like a carrot that was constantly peeled away.
After eighteen years of this, no matter how plump the carrot had once been, it had also turned into a skinny one.
Every time the aristocrats were overly confident, believing they could turn the tide, reality would always slap them back into their place.
The relationship between the emperor and her ministers seemed harmonious on the surface, while under the table, they were fighting each other to the death.
If one were to speak of peril, there were only three occasions that were the most dangerous.
The first was the Red Lotus Sect uprising, coinciding with the emperor’s difficult labor during Fushou’s birth, leading many to mistakenly announce her demise.
【Who said I had a difficult labor and died?】
A crowd of ministers rushed to express their condolences, and when the emperor appeared with a mock smile, their faces turned ashen.
The second was when the emperor vigorously promoted the imperial examination and land reform, causing the interests of the aristocrats to be threatened, prompting them to secretly plan a coup.
The third was during the eighteenth year of Yongchen, when the emperor fell ill, bedridden for months; Zhang Zuo, backed by the aristocracy, attempted to stage a coup.
Thinking about this last point, Wei Ci felt pain radiate through his chest, so intense that he couldn’t help but clutch at it, his complexion turning pale.
The child he had painstakingly raised for over a decade was foolish enough to be used against his own parents.
Was the allure of imperial power truly that terrifying?
Lost in confusion, Wei Ci found himself back in the dream realm, familiar roars ringing in his ears.
【I was born the supreme royal son, the rightful crown prince, yet now I am wrongfully accused by treacherous people, reduced to a mere bastard! Is this justice?】
He stood there in a daze, his soul detached from his body, unable to respond.
Every word struck right at his heart.
【Who told you you’re the rightful crown prince? Crown Prince Zhang Zuo is a posthumous title; as long as you’re alive, that title is void. And now you dare to commit treachery and attempt to usurp the throne, you deserve death! I have never meant for you to be the heir. Standing before me, do you wish to accuse me of turning you into a mere bastard, robbing you of your glory, or do you think you’re more capable than Changsheng and can govern this world, protecting the people? Zixiao should be an unparalleled talent; he taught you countless things, yet what did you learn from him? Foolish to the core! Other than being used as a pawn, falling into the trap I’ve set for you, what else can you do? Truly stupid!】
Aside from the crown prince’s inheritance and the identity of a prince, Wei Ci felt nothing but injustice for this child, only to be met with the label of “traitor.”
【Hah—perhaps you and Zixiao were not babies born in the womb, but merely placentas.】
